


I Know Your Type

by emphasisonem



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angry Sex, Beefy Bucky, Eventual Feelings, First Meeting, Happy Ending, M/M, Sexual Tension, Skinny Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 11:01:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8011111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emphasisonem/pseuds/emphasisonem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You don’t know-” the brunet growls, and it sends a frisson of heat through Steve’s body. “The first thing about me.”</p><p>Steve opens his mouth to respond, but the words die in his throat as the brunet claims his lips in a fierce kiss. Steve has every intention of pushing him away when his hands reach up to the broad chest before him, but instead he finds himself curling his fingers into the fabric of the other man’s shirt and pulling him closer. </p><p>
  <b>In which Steve and Bucky get off on the wrong foot.</b>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Know Your Type

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zacharypay1_Alisa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zacharypay1_Alisa/gifts).



> Hey there! WIP updates are forthcoming, I promise, but I wanted to finish this first. It's a birthday gift for zacharypay1_Alisa who wanted a meet-ugly between skinny Steve and beefy Bucky that results in angry sex and feelings. I really hope you like it! And happy birthday!!

Steve is going to fucking murder this guy.

It doesn’t matter that the brunet is at _least_ half a foot taller than he is. It doesn’t matter that he’s broad-shouldered with developed biceps straining against the fabric of a red henley and thighs that look as though they could crush Steve’s head like a grapefruit.

No, what matters is that this fuckwit is wandering through the library at Empire State University leaving a trail of books, newspapers and magazines in his wake. Most students grab up items of interest for assignments and settle in at one of the tables, but not this guy. This guy is just fucking moving from place to place, skimming books and articles, and tossing them aside when he decides they’re not of use.

Closing time is twenty minutes away, and unless Steve says something, it looks like _he’s_ going to be the one cleaning up this guy’s mess since the librarian on duty had to leave because of a family emergency. So, he follows the brunet into the stacks.

“Hey,” Steve snaps, and _Christ_ this guy’s eyes are absolutely stunning, a deep blue-gray that reminds Steve of the Atlantic on overcast summer days at the Jersey shore.

 _Focus,_ Steve chastises himself. _Do not let the fact that he’s handsome distract you._

“You gonna clean up after yourself or are you a fuckin’ slob?” Steve continues, crossing his arms over his thin chest. The brunet quirks an eyebrow as he looks down at Steve, the beginnings of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, and Steve feels his blood start to boil.

“What’s it to you, shortstack?” the brunet quips. “What are you, the library police or somethin’?”

“First of all, fuck you,” Steve growls. “Second of all, I work here, and I’m the guy who’s gonna have to put all of this shit back because you couldn’t be bothered.”

The brunet chuckles, placing the book he was skimming back in the correct place. “Jesus, all right. I’ll put ‘em back. Don’t get your panties in a twist, kid.”

“Don’t call me kid, you asshole,” Steve seethes, striding over and poking the brunet’s well-developed chest with a bony finger. “I know your type. Big man on campus. Probably here on an athletic scholarship. Dickin’ around for four years while the rest of us actually have to _work_ to be here.”

The brunet stiffens, his shoulders tense, and Steve can see his hands curl into fists at his sides.

“You oughta watch your mouth, shortstack.” The other man’s voice is soft, but his tone is dangerous. Steve pushes anyway.

“Why?” Steve’s laugh is hollow and angry. “You gonna beat me up because I can see right through you? Real original. Never dealt with that before.”

The brunet’s eyes narrow and before Steve has time to react, the guy’s grabbing his shoulders and shoving him up against the shelving. The metal digs into Steve’s back and he hisses.

“You don’t know-” the brunet growls, and it sends a frisson of heat through Steve’s body. “The first thing about me.”

Steve opens his mouth to respond, but the words die in his throat as the brunet claims his lips in a fierce kiss. Steve has every intention of pushing him away when his hands reach up to the broad chest before him, but instead he finds himself curling his fingers into the fabric of the other man’s shirt and pulling him closer.

 

* * *

 

_What the fuck are you doing?_

It is, Bucky thinks as he rolls his hips forward into the blond’s, a completely reasonable question. He guesses maybe he wanted to catch this guy by surprise since he seems to think he knows everything, and he certainly wasn’t going to hit him. Bucky’s not that guy, never has been.

The blond clearly _thinks_ he is, and that thought infuriates him. So he bites down harder than is strictly necessary on the blond’s bottom lip, reveling in the broken moan that escapes him. Bucky slides his hands past the cardigan the other man’s wearing, delving underneath his thin blue, t-shirt - which, it should be noted, brings out the guy’s insanely blue eyes in a way that is patently unfair - and digs his short nails into the small of his back.

Bucky thinks about how easy it would be to lift the smaller man up, to fuck him right here against this bookshelf, but it’s not like he carries lube around and he doesn’t want to hurt the guy, even if he was being a grade A dick before Bucky had silenced him with his lips.

This man might be an uptight, pretentious ass, Bucky thinks as he pulls back, rolling his hips forward again and delighting in the way the blond’s lips part on a sigh. He might be just that, Bucky muses as he kisses his way down the man’s willowy, elegant throat, but he is _very_ pretty.

 

* * *

 

“What are-” Steve gasps out as the brunet begins to unbutton the jeans he’d worn to work today. “What are you doing?”

“The fuck does it look like, shortstack?” the brunet snaps as he circles strong fingers around Steve’s cock. “And you think you’re so much smarter than me.”

“Fuck you,” Steve pants, chest heaving as the other man begins to stroke him hard and fast. Steve whines when the brunet pulls his hand away, and the guy just glares at him with those steely eyes as he takes out his own cock. The brunet lines them up and begins stroking them both, never breaking eye contact with Steve.

The brunet’s mouth is back on Steve’s a moment later. The kiss is messy and desperate, all teeth and tongue and saliva, but fuck if this isn’t the hottest encounter Steve’s ever had in his life. He knows he should pull back, should tell the guy to knock it off, but he can’t bring himself to do it. Steve’s burning up from the inside out, shivering as the other man’s breath ghosts along his jawline, and he doesn’t want to stop.

“Shit,” Steve moans, hips stuttering when he feels the other man’s cock pulsing against his. “Close.”

The other man doesn’t say a word, just strokes faster as he sucks a bruise into Steve’s neck. Steve tangles his hands in the man’s shoulder-length hair, and keens low in his throat at the gravelly groan that slips past the brunet’s lips. Steve shudders, spilling over the taller man’s hand with a shaky cry, and he can feel the guy’s release dripping onto his softening cock a moment later.

The brunet jerks back and pulls a couple of tissues from the pockets of his jeans. He hands one to Steve wordlessly and they clean themselves up.

“It’s past closing,” Steve sighs as he glances up at a nearby clock. “Guess I’m cleaning up all your fuckin’ messes tonight.”

“Jesus,” the brunet groans. “Not even gettin’ laid loosens you up, does it?”

“Get the fuck outta here,” Steve growls, gratified as the other man stumbles back a few steps. Those stormy eyes are wide and a little panicked, and Steve feels his chest tighten a bit at that. “And relax. I’m only annoyed about the books and stuff. The other thing-”

“The quickie handjob against the bookshelf?” the brunet is smirking, and now Steve’s not sure if he’d rather punch him or kiss him.

“Yes,” Steve rolls his eyes as he walks out of the aisle they’re standing in. The brunet’s footsteps follow, echoing in the empty space. “I’m not upset about that.”

Steve turns to look at the other man, and he’s grinning wide. Steve glares at him. “Don’t expect it to happen again. I told you, I know your type and you’re certainly not mine.”

Steve feels a strange combination of satisfaction and regret at the hurt in the other man’s eyes as the smile disappears from his face.

“Whatever,” the brunet snaps. “I’ll see you around, shortstack.”

“I have a fuckin’ name, you know,” Steve shouts at the other man’s retreating form. “It’s Steve Rogers.”

“Bucky Barnes,” the dark-haired man calls back. “Great to meet you, Steve, really. Been a pleasure.”

 _Sarcastic fucker_ , Steve thinks, grumbling as he sets to work righting the library.

 

* * *

 

Bucky finds himself visiting the library a lot later than he usually does, hoping for a glimpse of a short, slim figure and honey-colored hair. Bucky’s been dying to run into Steve, to give the guy a piece of his mind.

And, yeah, maybe he’d like to get that slender body writhing under his hands again, but that’s totally beside the point.

He’s rewarded for his patience three nights after their first encounter when he hears Steve’s voice, raised in annoyance. “Are you fuckin’ kidding me? It’s fifteen minutes past closing, what the fuck are you doing here?”

Bucky’s head snaps up, and his breath _does not_ catch in his throat at the sight of the blond with his sharp cheekbones and his ocean eyes. He is _not_ wondering how Steve managed to squeeze himself into those black skinny jeans, and he’s _definitely not_ admiring the way his oversized burgundy sweater hangs askew, exposing his collarbone.

“What?” Bucky asks, quirking a brow. “Am I not allowed to do my schoolwork in the library now? I must’ve got caught up and lost track of the time. Sorry.”

Steve’s blue eyes narrow and he folds his arms across his chest, pouting. Bucky doesn’t find it adorable _at all_. “Are you stalkin’ me or somethin’?”

“Pretentious _and_ cocky,” Bucky smirks, loving the angry flush that spreads down Steve’s neck. He can still see the ghost of the hickey he left there, and he’s already half hard in his jeans. _Fuck_.

“What kind of bullshit course are you even studying for anyway?” Steve’s tone is dismissive as he walks over and picks up the book in front of Bucky. “Springer Handbook of Robotics. You’re kidding, right? You think you can sit here and pretend to read an engineering textbook and I’ll be impressed or something?”

Bucky was actually on board with the sassy banter up until now, but he’s fuming as he glares at the blond. _What a fuckin’ dick._

“You are unbelievable, you know that?” Bucky bursts out, snatching the book from Steve’s hands. “Absolutely unbelievable. I don’t give a _shit_ if you’re impressed or not. I’m just trying to get my fuckin’ work done, you little shit.”

“Sure,” Steve sneers, and Bucky doesn’t think about it, just stands, grabs the blond and pushes his books and bag from the table where he was working, then lifts Steve and sets him down on the worn wood.

“What the fuck?” Steve shouts as Bucky steps up between his thighs. “You think you can just manhandle me because I’m smaller than you?”

“I think you need to shut the fuck up,” Bucky growls, then licks his way into the blond’s mouth.

 

* * *

 

Steve knows he’s being needlessly cruel as he derides Bucky over the textbook; for all Steve knows this guy actually _is_ an engineering major. And when Bucky lays him out on one of the tables on the second floor of the library and starts kissing him breathless, Steve wonders if maybe this isn’t what he’d been angling for as soon as he opened his big mouth.

Bucky’s hands are _everywhere_ and Steve can’t help the breathy moan that catches in his throat as Bucky palms his hardening length through his jeans. Bucky’s mouth makes it’s way across Steve’s jaw line, and Steve cries out as Bucky begins nipping and sucking at his neck.

“I like it when you’re too incoherent to form words,” Bucky breathes against Steve’s overheated flesh, and Steve shivers. “You’re much nicer.”

“Bite me,” Steve chokes out, and nearly screams when Bucky _does_ bite him where his neck meets his shoulder. _“Fuck.”_

Steve grabs Bucky by his hair, pulling him back up so that he can kiss him again, loving the way Bucky moans. Steve tugs harder and is rewarded with a guttural groan.

“You like that?” Steve groans as Bucky’s mouth moves back to his neck, shuddering as Bucky whimpers.

“Steve,” Bucky’s voice is breathless, and Steve closes his eyes and groans because _Jesus_ , this asshole is way too attractive for his own good.

Bucky’s warmth is gone a moment later, and then the brunet’s hands are at the button of Steve’s jeans. Bucky undoes it quickly, sliding the zipper down and then tugs to expose Steve’s cock. Steve can’t keep from shouting as Bucky swallows him down.

 _“Jesus,”_ Steve cries, hips stuttering as Bucky swirls his tongue around the head of his cock. “Oh, _god_.”

Bucky hums, taking Steve deeper, bobbing expertly along Steve’s shaft. Steve’s pretty sure he’s never gotten head this good in his life, so he’s willing to overlook the fact that Bucky annoys the hell out of him. For the moment, anyway.

 

* * *

 

Steve is hot and heavy in his mouth, and Bucky moans when he tastes the salty precome leaking from Steve’s cock. Steve’s hands fly to his head, gripping his hair tight as he fucks into Bucky’s mouth. Bucky works his own jeans open, pushing them down and stroking himself as he bobs up and down Steve’s length.

Bucky shivers as Steve comes a few minutes later, swallows every fucking drop. He’s more than a little surprised when Steve tugs him up by hair hair and pushes him back against the table. Bucky whimpers as Steve drops to his knees. Steve’s lips around him are a fucking revelation, and it doesn’t take long before Bucky spills his release into the blond’s mouth.

Steve’s lips are bright red and slick with spit and Bucky can’t resist tugging him up and kissing him. Bucky groans at his taste on Steve’s tongue, shudders when Steve’s long fingers grip his hips tight.

Steve pulls away suddenly, taking several steps back as his chest heaves.

“Go,” Steve’s voice is low and ragged, and Bucky’s spent cock twitches with renewed interest. “I need to close.”

“Right,” Bucky shakes his head, then grabs his books from the floor and shoves them into his backpack. “Uh, thanks, I guess. See you around.”

Bucky takes a deep, steadying breath once he’s out in the cool autumn air, running a hand through his dark hair.

Despite the fact Steve is stubborn and sharp-tongued and has clearly already decided he doesn’t like Bucky, Bucky kind of digs him more than any guy he’s ever met. Those stupid blue eyes and the fire that burns within them are the only thing he can think about.

“Fuck,” Bucky breathes. “God, I’m so fucked.”

It would seem that Bucky might actually have a little crush on the blond.

 

* * *

 

“Shit,” Steve hisses as he stumbles on one of the treadmills in the student gym. He manages to catch the safety bar before he falls, but he’s caught Bucky’s attention all the same. The brunet grins wickedly and wanders over toward Steve.

“God damn it,” Steve mutters under his breath, shutting the machine down and grabbing his water bottle from the built-in cup holder.

“Wouldn’t have pegged you for a gym rat,” Bucky chuckles as he saunters up to Steve. His dark hair is tied up in a messy bun, and he’s wearing an ESU golf shirt and khakis. Steve doesn’t think anyone has any right to look as good as Bucky does in such a boring outfit. It’s infuriating.

“Ha ha,” Steve bites out, but he can feel a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “What are you even doin’ here? And why are you dressed like a dad on a golf outing?”

Bucky throws back his head and laughs, and _Jesus_ , that’s a really nice sound. Steve likes the way Bucky’s smile gets wide, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners. He presses his mouth into a thin line in an attempt to avoid grinning at the brunet.

“I work here,” Bucky shrugs. “Not usually in this early, but I switched shifts with a coworker this week. Can I, uh, help you with any of the machines or anything?”

Steve’s eyes narrow, and he’s lashing out before he thinks it through. “Oh, what? Because I’m scrawny I don’t know what I’m doing in here?”

“That’s not-” Bucky starts, but Steve interrupts him.

“I don’t need your goddamn help,” Steve grumbles, stalking past Bucky to the men’s locker room.

“Jesus Christ, what is your _problem?”_ Bucky demands, following Steve through the door. Steve slams his water bottle down on one of the benches and whirls, leveling a glare at the brunet.

“You are my problem,” Steve seethes, shoving at Bucky’s chest. Steve’s got the element of surprise on his side, and the larger man stumbles back a step or two. “Think you can do whatever you want, just because you’re big and attractive and-”

And Steve doesn’t get to finish that sentence because Bucky’s slamming him back against a row of lockers and claiming his mouth.

 

* * *

 

 _He thinks I’m attractive._ Bucky’s heart soars at the thought as he rolls his hips against Steve’s, delighting in the sighs and moans he coaxes from the smaller man. Steve gives as good as he gets, thrusting forward and tangling his hands in Bucky’s hair and tugging.

“Wanna fuck you,” Bucky pants as he breaks from Steve’s lips, moving to kiss down Steve’s neck. Steve shudders against him, and Bucky can feel the blond’s hard length pressing against his thigh.

“Yes,” Steve breathes, breath hitching as Bucky nips at the sensitive flesh of his earlobe. The blond pushes back against Bucky’s chest, and Bucky steps back, watching at Steve opens one of the lockers and pulls out a backpack. He rummages in it for a few seconds, then pulls out a small bottle of lube and a condom.

“So prepared,” Bucky teases with a smile. “Were you a boy scout, Stevie?”

The indignant little squeak Steve lets out is maybe the cutest thing Bucky’s ever heard. “If you call me Stevie again, you can forget about fucking me, you jerk.”

Bucky laughs, grabbing Steve and leading him back to the bathroom stalls so that they have some privacy.

Bucky kisses Steve deep as he opens the blond quickly, swallowing down his moans and curses. Steve is so beautiful like this, flushed with arousal and writhing in Bucky’s hands, still so full of fire that Bucky’s afraid he’ll get burned.

Bucky lifts Steve, letting the blond wrap those slim legs around his hips, and slides into him slow and gentle.

“You can,” Steve groans as he pushes down against Bucky, “You can dispense with the kid gloves now and just fuck me like you mean it, Barnes. I’m not gonna break.”

“Whatever you say, Stevie,” Bucky grins wickedly and begins thrusting up into the blond, reveling in every cry he can draw from the smaller man.

 

* * *

 

Steve’s panting as he and Bucky come down from the high of their orgasms, and he figures that this is possibly the best workout he’s ever had at the gym. Steve thinks that maybe this could be the moment he and the handsome brunet begin to work past their first meeting and start talking to each other like normal people.

His smart mouth has other plans.

“Thank god I had that condom,” Steve says, pulling up his shorts. “That was great, but lord knows where a guy like you’s been.”

Bucky pushes him back hard against the stall, mouth a hair’s breadth from Steve’s own.

“You’re such a fuckin’ punk, Rogers,” Bucky growls against his lips. “You think you know fuckin’ everything, and you don’t know a goddamn thing.”

“Oh,” Steve leans forward and bites down on Bucky’s lip, drawing blood, but the brunet just grips his hips tighter. Steve chokes down a moan at the thought of Bucky’s fingers leaving bruises on his delicate skin. “Right, like you know so much, asshole. You don’t know me.”

“Haven’t given me much of a chance, have you?” Bucky replies. “And it’s not like you’ve made any effort to get to know me, since you’ve already made up your mind.”

“I don’t _have_ to get to know you,” Steve’s tone is vicious, but it’s like he can’t stop the poisonous words flowing from his lips. “Big dumb jock who’s probably still in the fuckin’ closet, what else is there to know?”

Bucky stumbles back, anger and pain evident in his steely eyes, and Steve feels his chest tighten. _Shit_.

“Buck, I didn’t-” Steve stammers- “I didn’t mean it-”

“Enough,” Bucky growls, and Steve can see tears welling in the brunet’s eyes. “Enough. Get the fuck away from me.”

“Buck, please, I’m-” Steve pleads, cringing back when Bucky’s eyes narrow and his hands curl into fists.

“I swear to god, if you try to say you’re sorry right now, I might deck you,” Bucky replies. “Now go. Go finish your workout, go back to your dorm, I don’t care. Just get away from me.”

Steve opens his mouth, then thinks better of it, grabbing his water bottle and his backpack bolting from the locker room.

“Shit,” Steve whispers as he leaves the gym, heading back in the direction of his room. “Oh, shit.”

 

* * *

 

Bucky avoids the library after the locker room debacle. He’s angry and hurting and worst of all he still can’t get those stupid blue eyes out of his head. Steve actually tries to approach him on campus once or twice, those eyes wide and apologetic, but Bucky always ducks him.

He doesn’t want to talk to Steve. Doesn’t want the apology when he knows it won’t change anything about the way Steve sees him. Bucky wishes desperately that he didn’t want the blond so badly because he kind of fuckin’ hates him right now.

After about two weeks, he has to go to the library to work on a paper for one of his classes. It’s late, but he doesn’t see Steve anywhere, and does his best to shove the disappointment he feels away, to lose himself in his assignment. He must manage it, because he starts as gentle fingers tap his shoulder.

“Pardon, dear,” an older woman smiles kindly down at him. “The library’s about to close up for the evening.”

Bucky grins up at her, actually missing the way Steve snaps at him in the face of this politeness.

“Sure, I’ll get out of your way,” Bucky replies, packing up his laptop and his books and rising from his chair. He starts toward the door, then turns to the woman.

“Ma’am?” Bucky says, the she turns to him. “You wouldn’t happen to know where I could find Steve Rogers, do you?”

“Call me Marge, hon,” the woman smiles. “Are you a friend of his?”

“Something like that,” Bucky huffs out a laugh. “I need to talk to him about something.”

“Well, you’ll have to head over to St. Mary’s, I’m afraid,” Marge replies, and Bucky feels his eyes widen.

“The hospital?” His voice is hoarse and he can’t breathe, suddenly terrified that something terrible has happened.

Marge nods, and Bucky can hear her calling out to him, but he’s already sprinting from the building to the lot where his car’s parked.

 

* * *

 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Steve asks, wincing at how weak his voice sounds. Bucky’s standing there in the doorway looking like a goddamn demigod, tall and broad and perfect, and Steve wants to smack him and hold him close all at once.

“I need to talk to you,” Bucky eyes are downcast, his hands shoved into his pockets.

“Visiting hours ended at eight,” Steve replies, scowling even though he’s absolutely thrilled that the brunet is here. “But of course the rules don’t apply to pretty boy jocks like you, do they?”

“I cannot believe,” Bucky grumbles, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips. “That you’re lying there in bed with-”

“Pneumonia,” Steve supplies, eyes following Bucky as he drops into the chair beside him.

“Pneumonia,” Bucky continues, shaking his head. “And you’re still attacking me.”

“How’d you even get back here?” Steve asks, fiddling with the controls of his bed until he’s sitting up straighter. Bucky’s answering grin can only be described as rakish.

“Sweet-talked a nurse.”

Steve groans. “Of course you did.”

“Look, I didn’t come here to argue you with you while you’re sick,” Bucky sighs. “I just. I want you to know I’m sorry for everything. I’m sorry if I made you feel less than; I didn’t really mean too. I don’t always think before I speak, and it didn’t help that you were kind of openly antagonizing me.”

“You started it,” Steve responds, pouting, and it’s nice to see Bucky laugh.

“You clearly feel like you have something to prove,” Bucky says, holding up his hands as Steve glares at him. “I just want you to know that you don’t, ok? Don’t let people make you feel small, Steve.”

Steve feels his throat start to constrict, feels his eyes begin to itch with tears he refuses to shed in front of this man. He just nods.

Bucky rises from the chair, smiling. “And Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Get better so you can yell at me in the library so that we can fuck against a shelf sometime or something, ok?”

Steve glares at Bucky, but he’s laughing now. “Get the fuck out of my hospital room, you idiot.”

 

* * *

 

Bucky figures once Steve’s out of the hospital maybe he can try to get the two of them on the right track. Get to know Steve. Maybe even ask him out if he can get up the courage.

The first time Bucky sees Steve back at the library, he smiles and waves. Steve returns it with a weak grin and a nod, and proceeds to ignore him completely as he shelves books. Bucky’s a little hurt, but hey, the guy’s at work.

He approaches Steve around closing time. “You haven’t yelled at me once, and I left a whole bunch of books lying around.”

Steve’s blue eyes flick to Bucky’s for a moment, then drop back to the cart of books before him. “I don’t really have time to talk, Buck.”

Bucky didn’t think anything could hurt more than the words Steve spoke to him in the locker room, but this quiet, casual dismissal is so much worse. Bucky smiles anyway, nodding. “Time for anything else?”

“Jesus _Christ_ ,” Steve hisses. “You think just because you’re good-looking and you show some interest in me, I’m just gonna drop to my knees whenever you want? I have some pride, asshole.”

“That’s not-” Bucky pauses, searching for the right words. “I don’t expect anything from you, Steve. I just thought-”

“You just thought we could pick up right where we left off,” Steve’s blue eyes are cold, and Bucky can’t breathe. He’d been stupid enough to develop feelings for a guy who will never see him as anything more than some jock cretin with no real feelings. “I told you; you’re not my fuckin’ type.”

“Ok,” Bucky whispers. “I get it. I’ll just. I’ll just go now.”

“I think that would be best,” Steve replies, voice steady and hard, and Bucky winces at the sound of it.

Bucky slinks back to his table, packs up his books and leaves the library without another word. And if a few stray tears escape his cheeks, it doesn’t matter. Nobody’s around to see him brush them away.

 

* * *

 

Steve feels like shit, but he know he’s doing what’s best for himself. Because no matter how sweet Bucky visiting him in the hospital had been, no matter how many butterflies flutter within Steve’s chest every time Bucky smiles at him, no matter how kind the brunet’s been despite Steve’s harsh words, Steve knows better.

Steve knows a guy like Bucky could never be seriously interested in a guy like Steve. So, despite all of the evidence to the contrary, it’s easier to pretend that Bucky is an asshole than to just admit that he likes the guy.

 

* * *

 

Steve runs into Bucky a few weeks later at the gym, nodding curtly in acknowledgment when their eyes meet. Steve climbs up onto one of the treadmills, but the machine won’t start. Steve shrugs, moving to the next treadmill and goes through the paces of his normal workout. He knows he should tell somebody about the broken machine, but it looks like Bucky’s the only employee here at this early hour, and Steve’s terrified of speaking to him.

He does it anyway.

“Um,” Steve begins as he reaches the desk and Bucky’s eyes snap up to meet his, sad and wary. “One of the treadmills is broken, I think.”

Bucky nods. “Show me which.”

Steve can feel the brunet behind him, can feel those stormy eyes lingering on him as he points out the broken machine. Bucky makes a note of it and thanks Steve before heading back to the desk. Steve heaves a sigh of relief and then heads into the locker room to use the bathroom before heading back to his dorm.

Of course, Bucky’s standing by the sinks when Steve heads out to wash his hands.

“Jesus,” Steve gasps. “The fuck are you doin’ in here?”

“Do you really hate me?” Bucky asks, striding over, invading Steve’s space. Steve turns away, washing his hands quickly. Bucky grabs his wet hands as he reaches for a paper towel. “Steve, do you?”

“What the hell are you playin’ at, Buck?” Steve shouts, trying to pull away, but Bucky’s grip is firm. “Get off me.”

“Answer the question,” Bucky eyes are wide and pleading, and _shit_ , Steve does not need this right now. “I need to know if you hate me because I really don’t hate you. Like at all. But if you hate me, I’ll leave you alone, I swear.”

“You-” Steve stammers, trying to wrap his head around what Bucky’s just said. “What are you talkin’ about?”

“I’m talkin’ about the fact that I can’t stop thinking about you, you stubborn punk,” Bucky huffs. “I’m talking about the fact that you drive me fuckin’ insane, and about how all I want to do is get past this fuck-everybody front you’ve got goin’ on because I know you’re more than that.”

“Bucky, I-” Steve starts, unsure of how to proceed. So, he does what Bucky does whenever he wants Steve to shut up. He grabs the collar of the brunet’s shirt and pulls him into a kiss.

 

* * *

 

Bucky pulls away from Steve, laughing. “Oh, no. Not that I don’t wanna ravish you six ways to Sunday, but I think you and I need to actually talk. Like real people do, you know?”

Steve huffs out a laugh and nods. “Ok.”

“I got a break comin’ up,” Bucky grins. “Meet me at the Starbucks across from the Fine Arts building in fifteen?”

Bucky kisses the corner of Steve’s mouth, chuckling at the blond’s dazed nod. Steve hasn’t said a damn thing that indicates that he might feel the same way Bucky does, but the brunet has a good feeling about this.

 

* * *

 

“So, I think maybe we should start over,” Bucky smiles across the table at Steve as he sucks down an iced mocha. “I’m Bucky Barnes. I really and truly am an engineering major. I _did_ have an athletic scholarship until last year when my knee gave out during a game; I was a forward on the basketball team. I lucked out and qualified for a partial academic scholarship and work study. I want to build robots that help disabled people with their day-to-day tasks after I graduate.”

Steve doesn’t know what the hell to do with the onslaught of information, so he just nods. Bucky chuckles, kicking him lightly under the table. “What about you?”

“Uh,” Steve wracks his brain, trying to come up with interesting tidbits. “I’m English lit and art. I’m a work-study student too, and I want to get a Masters in library science after undergrad. I’m secretary for the campus GSA and I do cartoons for the student newspaper. And I’m, um, I’m _really_ sorry for the way that I treated you, Buck.”

Bucky’s eyes soften at that. “I’m sorry too.”

“No, you don’t,” Steve exhales. “You don’t have to do that. You were just reacting to someone being an asshole to you. I just, I’m not used to guys like you paying any attention to me, so I was trying to keep some emotional distance. And I hurt you. And I’m sorry.”

“I’m still sorry too,” Bucky chuckles. “I should have just been nice instead of yelling back. And manhandling you sexually.”

“Well,” Steve blushes and glances up at Bucky with a smile. “To tell the truth, I didn’t mind that at all, so you _really_ don’t need to apologize for that.”

Bucky throws back his head and laughs, his large hand finding it’s way to Steve’s across the table. “Steve, can I take you out on a date sometime?”

“Are you serious?” Steve blinks rapidly, biting his lip as Bucky squeezes his hand gently.

“Yeah,” Bucky replies, voice soft. “I really am.”

“I think that’d be fine,” Steve smirks, and Bucky chuckles at the expression on his face. “But I have one condition.”

“What’s that?” Bucky asks, and Steve leans across the table to whisper in his ear.

“I want you to fuck me in an actual bed afterwards,” Steve breathes, reveling in the way Bucky shivers. “None of this handjob up against a bookshelf or blowjob on a table or a quickie in the bathroom nonsense.”

“I think I can manage that,” Bucky exhales with a shaky smile as Steve kisses his cheek. And instead of worrying when Bucky turns his head to catch Steve’s lips with his own, Steve just lets himself enjoy it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! You can follow me or submit requests [here.](http://emphasisonem.tumblr.com/)


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